The Selfish Ways I Love You
by mmothballs
Summary: Her words did not make sense to Alec. Very little was making sense to him – not after what just happened. It seemed like his thoughts were lagging behind, his rationality lost at the spot where Magnus had disappeared. A post-CoLS fic. Because Nephiliam don't love like normal people. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** 'Her words did not make sense to Alec. Very little was making sense to him – not after what just happened. It seemed like his thoughts were lagging behind, his rationality lost at the spot where Magnus had disappeared.' Because Nephiliam don't love like normal people. A post-CoLS fic.

**The selfish ways I love you**

**A/N**: In every story there are a multitude of paths that one could take. So where do we go from here? In one reality Alec runs into Maureen and gets bitten. She has after all just killed Camille and previously Jordan's friend. Maybe Lilith did something to her to make her more powerful. Would a little demon blood trigger some kind of super-evil vampire killer? One can only assume…

In another instance Alec kills Maureen or she escapes and he keeps living an empty shell of a life as a Shadowhunter until he meets Magnus again. Even that instance isn't really an instance, but an entire window filled with endless opportunities for divergence. So which path should we take? Decisions, decisions…

_It's looking like a limb torn off  
Or altogether just taken apart  
We're reeling through an endless fall  
We are the ever-living ghost of what once was  
_

_But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do_  
_No one's gonna love you more than I do_

~Band of Horses

**More than I do**

Her words did not make sense to Alec. Very little was making sense to him – not after what just happened. It seemed like his thoughts were lagging behind; his rationality lost at the precise spot where Magnus had disappeared into the darkness of the station.

"_You?" _His icy blue eyes narrowed in disbelief as they weighed up the skinny frame of the young vampire girl before him. "You _can't_ have killed Camille. She's like a thousand years old."

Because people that old didn't just _die_ like that – not by stupid little things like vampire fledglings in glittery unicorn t-shirts... or stab wounds. Immortals were immortal for a reason. They had endless decades to learn how to protect themselves. They were meant to be invulnerable – or at least _more_ invulnerable than normal people. And yet the all too familiar ruby-red tinge of vampiric blood on her clothes, her hands, her face, told him that the vampire girl really wasn't lying despite the fact that everything about the night was feeling like some sort of trick.

"You don't think I could?" Alec watched as irritation and amusement coloured her tone, her head slowly tilting to one side as she regarded him.

"You should know I've killed lots of things! Vampires, werewolves, a fairy..." She giggled again helplessly, her voice a jubilant singsong. "And now I'm the vampire clan leader!"

For a second he could only stare at her, entirely shell-shocked by her words. Finally after what seemed like a really long pause, a quiet, sardonic chuckle echoed through the station, breaking the small bubble of silence that her words had left behind. "You're out of your freaking mind."

She was obviously bat-shit crazy but somehow the words that spilled through his lips sounded just as manic as hers.

Maybe he was the one that was really crazy. He wasn't even sure if the rage was for her – for stealing his kill – or for the other of her kind, though at the moment it almost felt like they could be one and the same.

Maybe someone like Jace would have had something more eloquent to dish out.

Maybe if he was less angry – less raw…

A part of him doubted this – was so certain that she was lying to him. He had fought Camille himself not a week ago and the ancient vampire had laughed at him after having almost used him to wipe the floor. He could still remember the gloating look as she wiped her own blood from her lips.

_That made me feel alive, little Nephilim._

No, there was no way Maureen stood a chance.

"Don't underestimate me Shadowhunter!" she shrieked, baring her needle-like canines dangerously, twisting her face into an inhuman mask as she lunged at him. Her fangs closed on air inches from Alec's throat as the blade of Amriel flashed towards her chest. Somehow she managed to dodge; her lightning quick movements precise and fluid as she leapt back out of the way.

For a few moments they engaged, each snap of her fangs rewarded with a slash of his seraph blade. She snarled when he managed to slice her across the back and another shallower cut on her forehead bled more vivid red blood down her already morbid façade.

Alec clutched at his ribs painfully as he pulled in painful gulps of air, sure that some were broken from when she had landed a particularly well placed kick.

"I will show all of you what I can do when the time comes!" she yelled, her high-pitched voice echoing in the silence of the station. Her eyes were like shards of glass, red-rimmed and hungry. "Once the war starts I will find you. And when I do I won't hesitate to break your face!"

And just like that – in a flash of inhuman speed – little Maureen retreated and was gone, leaving Alec alone again in the darkness. Fumbling at his side for his witchlight, he cursed as it lit from his touch to revel no sign of the vampire fledgling.

_Damn them all to hell!_

Alec's fists slammed into the tiled wall, hard and repeatedly until his knees gave way beneath him as pain flooded to his knuckles in red blotches of blood.

He wanted to be angry.

He wanted to burn the whole fucking world down and take every last vampire and fae with him.

A cry of frustration echoed through the emptiness, his body finally caving in on itself as that thing – that angry, broken thing inside his chest clawed savagely, breaking his gritted teeth and steady breaths into whimpering sobs that just didn't stop. Magnus was gone and there was nothing in the world that could have stopped that either. The gears had started turning a long time ago; it was just that Alec had been too blind – maybe too human to see. He should have known that Camille was not to be trusted. A demon in human skin who Magnus had loved in the past – he should have known better than to think she would _ever_ try to offer him help.

The most pathetic part of it all was that he hadn't even planned on going ahead with the offer. He had been tempted in a moment of weakness; reflexively reacting to the crippling fear of losing the one person he loved most. She had known this and had orchestrated this dance. And dance he had.

Love made you desperate and selfish – a lesson that had cost him so much to learn.

A cool night breeze stuck his hair to his skin when Alec finally resurfaced from dank musk of the train station. The moon was already low in the sky. He had no idea how long he had remained in the darkness, refusing to let his mind wander back to that forsaken place, telling himself that as long as he made it back to the Institute he would be fine.

He saw his life stretched out in a series of miniscule victories. Get out. Walk to the subway. Swipe the plastic ticket. That was how Alec managed to hold it all together while he made his way back into a life without a certain warlock, though it was already hard to remember a life without him in it. Already his previous eighteen years of growing up and being in love with Jace was a distant, foggy memory, eclipsed by the blinding brightness that was Magnus Bane.

As he stared into the stark florescent lights of the L train, Alec rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve before tuning to glare icily at the homeless man who was charitably offering him an apple. The knowledge that he obviously really looked bad enough to deserve the gesture flared his temper. Not wanting the pity he snapped, telling the man just where to stick it before stalking out of the carriage. Because it was easier for him to be angry; easier to just want to run after demons and vampires in glittery t-shirts and watch the blood and ichor flow. It was like he finally understood Jace's need for bloodlust and violence, because maybe that just what you did when you had nothing left to lose.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, don't kill me. I redrafted and changed some things though the general gist of the chapter stayed the same. Also I have decided how I'm structuring the next few chapters. They might be sort and drabble-ish I'll try to make it good, I promise.

Also, thank you for the reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wake up, look me in the eyes again_  
_I need to feel your hand upon my face_  
_Words can be like knives, they can cut you open_  
_And the silence surrounds you and haunts you_

_I think I might have inhaled you_  
_I can feel you behind my eyes_  
_You've gotten into my bloodstream_  
_I can feel you flowing in me_

~ Stateless

**Bloodstream**

To his eyes alone the majestic façade of the old church loomed closer as Alec trudged slowly towards the Institute. Not that he cared. His body was on some kind of auto-pilot, simply repeating old and practiced movements that he had done a million times before. He had grown up here – a place that had always been home – and yet there was something about it that felt unmistakably foreign, perhaps unwelcoming, as his feet made their way up the dark stone steps.

Slipping into the building, it looked like its occupants were entirely asleep and Alec felt a wave of relief course through him. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to talk to someone. Pain and exhaustion were taking their toll on him and there was nothing that he would welcome more than the blissful oblivion of sleep. Maybe when he woke up tomorrow this would all be part of some terrible dream.

"I thought you were at Magnus' tonight."

The name made Alec flinch as Isabelle's disembodied voice rose from the far corner of the room where she lay sprawled out across one of the massive couches, her face illuminated by the glow of her laptop as red painted nails scrolled through an endless catalogue of designer dresses.

The fact that she was still up didn't really surprise him (she is dating a vampire after all) though he couldn't help wishing that she had gone to bed like any other decent person. He narrowed his eyes as he shrugged, his jaw tight as he eyed the floor. "I thought you were at Simon's."

Alerted by his mood, her dark eyes left the screen, taking in the dirt and the blood that remained mostly hidden by his jacket. "Turns out I'm not. And you look like shit. Have you been fighting?"

"Sort of."

"Then you could have called me," she complained, her eyes narrowing as she sensed a familiarity about him. She has seen that look before. Jocelyn had been wearing that expression for weeks when Sebastian has been missing and had almost killed Luke. The expression that said that all hope was lost.

"Something happen?"

"No." His blue eyes slid past her towards the floor. "Nothing happened."

She rolled her eyes. He had always been a terrible liar.

"Look, if you and Magnus had a fight I'm sure that-"

She turned towards him and paused as the words died in her throat. Through a fringe of black hair she could see the tears that were already streaming down his face.

"He never wants to see me again." The words were soft and cracked and broken and as soon as they left his lips Isabelle watched her brother crumble.

And suddenly it was just the two of them. Alec and Isabelle. Isabelle and Alec. And once again it felt like she was the older sibling as he took solace in her impregnable strength – hugging her, burying his face in her hair as the sobs consumed him while she gently coaxed the story out of him piece by piece.

This was good. He needed this. But not as much as he needed six feet and five inches of heat, tanned skin and black spiky hair. The pain of his loss was real and all consuming. His voice trembled as he whispered into her hair and suddenly it's like they were six years old again. The despair and agony in his blue eyes was raw and unadulterated and in that moment he could feel her love for him like a physical shield, rising up to protect what was fragile and shattered and broken. Like a living, breathing Mark of Cain, he thought, suddenly horrified at the idea that she would somehow see this whole thing as Magnus' fault. In fact that was almost somewhat guaranteed. She wouldn't be able to help it. Magnus wasn't family and for her family always came first. It was just who she was.

"By the Angel… what have I done?"

"Nothing any of us wouldn't have done," she replied, her lips pressed in a thin line.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes it's short but I write slow. I wonder if Izzy should go talk to Magnus… probably not.

Oh! And I had to update/edit my previous chapter so I suggest re-reading that one.

And I love reviews like Chairman Meow loves catnip.


	3. Chapter 3

**N/A: **I just want to thank you all for the reviews, tear-stained or otherwise! :) And yes there most certainly will be breakup Malec interaction. After all just because one is the High Warlock of Brooklyn doesn't mean you don't unexpectedly run into your exes, right?

Because life is fair and brutally cruel like that. But we'll leave that for another chapter soon to come. Magnus and Izzy get this one.

And just cause I remember this being the best breakup album ever…

_I don't believe, I think I'm falling asleep  
__Is this beginning or ending? Am I stuck in a dream?  
__I don't wanna know what I think, I suppose  
__Out of the light into this timely demise  
__And there's a cross on the hill, the holy image of lies  
__I've opened my mind, but this dream is still real_

~ Sum 41

**Holy image of lies**

Large green eyes stared despondently at the ceiling, his mind a million miles away from the Brooklyn loft and the canary-yellow sheets that lay tangled beneath him. Even the sheer exhaustion of healing oneself didn't tire Magnus enough to allow for sleep or the welcomed oblivion that came with it. The ache had spread beyond just his chest, as if telling him that this wasn't something he would be able to simply fix with a clever spell. But maybe if he did try he might be able to simply pass out from the energy drain it would take.

But there was no spell against feeling like this. Nothing safe or permanent – not unless one was willing to risk going mad, which he wasn't, even though he was beginning to feel like this was some kind of insanity.

Time seemed to stand still though the warlock was faintly aware of the glow of sunrises that lit up the edges of the curtains and the softening hum of life as his neighbours retired from their busy days. The only thing he had continued doing since coming home that night was to open the cans of cat food for the Chairman before retreating once again to his bedroom. Since then he had tried, unsuccessfully, not to think of Alec or of anything else in particular – but it turned out that he couldn't help where his mind lead him. Painful, dark places in the depths of the city where beautiful boys with blue eyes begged for forgiveness.

The betrayal burned like an ice cold shard of glass through his heart that had been ruptured into a million pieces. There was no hope of removing the splinters, he thought darkly. Not this time. He had known better than to involve himself with the Shadowhunters and still he had – and not just that – he let himself fall in _love_ with one of them. Because it was true. He loved Alec.

He loved Alec.

His knuckles turned white as fingers dug themselves into the pillow he was holding to his face.

_God, how he loved Alec…_

Since he had gotten home that night he had told himself he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. He had made a promise to the Chairman, to himself, he thought wretchedly as he felt yet another tear fall into the soggy pillow.

So much for that.

In some ways he was glad that Alec never did come by to return his keys. He didn't think he would be able to face him, nor was there anywhere Magnus could go looking and feeling the way he did. The healing enchantments he had placed on himself had already left him weak, his magic spent.

Curling up on top of the sheets, he closed his eyes and once more prayed for sleep, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could somehow trick his mind into believing it was asleep if he tried hard enough.

A second later there was a sudden flash of green light and Magnus managed a low groan as a small piece of paper materialised and fluttered down from apparently nowhere, landing next to his stomach. The ink that was scrawled onto it was vivid green against the white and smelled distinctly of smoke.

With slitted eyes and a noise that was more animal than human, he crushed it into a ball before throwing it against the wall where it bounced and joined five others of its kind.

The Clave seriously needed to stop sending him their stupid messages. Maryce should know better than to be requesting his help now. Even mutilated angel wings were not getting Magnus out of bed. Not this time. Not ever.

He refused to care. He was their pet warlock no longer. Finding Sebastian was not his problem anymore. From now on the entire Clave could crawl up some giant, angelic sphincter as far as he was concerned.

Then the doorbell rang.

"There is no justice in this world," Magnus muttered, suppressing another groan as he gingerly pushed himself off the bed. The knife wound still felt raw when he moved, though it did not eclipse the ache that he felt upon realizing that it was probably a certain Nephiliam coming back to claim his stuff.

The doorbell rang again.

"I'm _coming _already!" He snapped, cursing his depleted magic and crossing his living room, physically throwing the door wide open before realizing that Alec would have had the key.

"Really? Of all people the Clave sends, they sent _you_?"

Cynical bitterness punctuated his tone; his green vertically-pupiled eyes had widened and narrowed in a nanosecond when he had finally realized who she was. 'Annoyed' did not even begin to cover the look on his face.

Of course she had known that showing up at the warlock's loft might not have been the best idea in the world, but with her father now home and everyone freaking out about the angel and Sebastian's threat – not to mention everything else that had happened in the last few days – she didn't really feel like she had a choice. Alec's sudden silence and sullenness had taken everyone by surprise and she had eventually had to tell the rest of them the entire wretched tale of what had happened between Magnus and her brother.

If she was being perfectly honest it was more as a favour to him than anything else. There was no real way to keep it a secret – not with just about everybody coming up shocked, and suggesting they call Magnus like he was the only person in the entire world who could be counted on to help them find Sebastian.

She knew her mother had been sending the fire-messages and she also knew that Magnus would never respond to them now.

"Nobody sent me," Isabelle admitted, biting her lip with uncharacteristic nervousness as Magnus' hawk-like face eyed her from behind the door with a level of contempt one normally reserved for Ravener demons. She was a little bit glad to see that breaking up with her brother had not left him unmarked. Gone were the leather pants and incandescent spikes. Instead he was in loose flannel pants with ducks on them. His hair now hung loosely to his shoulders. His skin was unusually pale, dark shadows hanging beneath his slightly puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

"Well then send yourself away again," he muttered, waving her away dismissively. "I don't want you here."

She felt herself sigh as sadness washed over her, meeting his green eyes with her own. "Magnus–"

"Isabelle are you trying to be tiresome?" His tone was curt, his face totally closed to her. "I was having a perfectly Lightwood-free day."

"No you weren't. You miss him."

Magnus groaned wearily. "I don't want to talk about this. Not right now. Not with you."

He stepped back to close the door again but her booted foot found its way into the crack of the door. "Alec told me what happened."

"Then you already know you're no longer welcomed here. Go home Isabelle."

She had expected resistance but this wasn't the same guy who wore glitter and made snide comments about their misadventures. A sadness as old as history seemed to burn in his eyes, hinting to the many lifetimes he'd lead. This was a very different Magnus and suddenly Isabelle felt rather out of depth. It was easier to stick to the facts.

"He loves you. He loves you so hard and so much."

"He went behind my back and tried to shorten my life." His expression was lost and empty as if the toll of his words had taken all the life from him. "Besides I can't help you even if I wanted to, which I don't. I almost died for the Shadowhunters once so if this is about finding Sebastian–"

"I don't care about Sebastian!" Sudden tears of frustration were threatening to fall down but she fought to hold them back. Finally saying them out loud, Isabelle knew the words were true. Maybe she had originally come to beg for his help in finding Clary's psychopathic murderer of a brother, but seeing the state Magnus was in only brought Alec into sharper focus. _My brother is broken_,_ so don't talk to me about Sebastian._

Magnus sighed and shifted his weight against the door, allowing his fringe to fall into his eyes as he glanced at her foot in the threshold. "Then I don't know why you insist upon standing here. Look, perhaps it's easier to think of it as how would you feel if Sherman – Simon – betrayed your trust and Turned you."

"I know what he did was unforgivable but–"

"Then_ how_ do you expect me to forgive him?" The demand held a plea that burned through his eyes as he searched hers. It said, _I'd do anything to forgive him if I only knew how._

"The thing about being young is that you believe that everything will be forgiven. The young never believe in consequences – not lasting ones anyway. All actions are reversible to you over time. Every mistake can be corrected. Amends can be made… But what happens when you make a mistake that is just too big, too lasting, too irreparable? There are some mistakes in life that you cannot walk away from. Some actions change your life. Some things you don't get to undo."

His slitted eyes were a million miles away, looking back to a past she would never know. It occurred to her that she had never once thought of him as vulnerable before that moment. Never once thought of him as anything less than magical and immortal. Not even when he had been stabbed and bleeding. A world without Magnus was impossible to fathom and the thought made her realize just how much she had expected him to be a part of their lives forever – she, Isabelle – who would have scoffed at the idea of truly loving a Downworlder a year ago.

Pain strained his voice when he finally broke the silence and she was surprized to find herself no longer wedged into the threshold of his door. "When you leave today you won't be able to find this place again. You might know the address, but the children of the Nephiliam will not find me again."

Apology etched itself onto his face and he watched her as if half expecting her to fly into a rage. But there was nothing. Nothing left in Isabelle except a desolate emptiness as she reeled in ill-concealed shock. She could feel her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. _He was going to set up wards to keep them away._

Somehow the knowledge cut deep and confusion flickered over her face for a moment as she stood there, trying to make sense of the sense of loss she was feeling.

And then there was a soft click as he finally closed the door.

A soft drizzle had started by the time Isabelle trudged back downstairs to head to the subway station. Once downstairs she had walked to the top of the street before looking back at the row of warehouses, half expecting not to see Magnus' building any longer. But it was still there, standing where it had always been.

Her pocket buzzed and Isabelle reached into it to fish out her tortured pink phone, Alec's name flashed on the front screen. She was about to let it ring before deciding against it. A second later Alec's voice deadpanned into her ear.

"Dad wants to know where you are."

"I'm at Simon's." She sighed dramatically in annoyance. "Tell him to keep his hair on. I'll be home soon."

And with that she hung up.

_We lie to everyone we love_, she thought darkly as she descended into the station. Love made us liars. _Each and every one of us_. And "forever" was the greatest lie of all.

* * *

**A/N**: -wipes sweat-  
I know this is supposed to be a Malec but things don't happen in isolation. I really hope you don't mind me exploring this a little. I promise you the cogs are turning and things will happen.

I love reviews like Jace loves his mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews! Sorry if it's all sad and misery. You are most welcomed to review and rant at me at how much it hurts. XD I'm not much used to writing the fluffy stuff. Yes, this story is a little bit painful right now… and I can't promise it won't get worse, but I do promise that it isn't anything you can't handle. The decent to hell is easy, and Alec and Magnus both have a long and wrenching climb ahead of them.

Interestingly enough this chapter was the very first one. I was listening to this song a few days after finishing City of Lost Souls and this song can almost be blamed for this fic's entire conception.

_I'm going out,  
I'm gonna drink myself to death  
And in the crowd  
I see you with someone else,  
I brace myself,  
Cause I know it's going to hurt,  
But I like to think at least things can't get any worse._

~Florence and the Machine

**Hurricane Drunk**

All the demons in the world would not have been as shocking to Alec as seeing Magnus chatting animatedly with the other boy. Despite the darkness of the lounge and the buzzing crowd, his eyes had picked out his ex-boyfriend's frame and gestures almost immediately. As if his brain had somehow been attuned to notice his stance; the familiar set of his shoulders, the occasional flick of the wrist…

His heart pounded and he froze, feeling like a bucket of ice had been dumped on him as he stared helplessly into the headlights of an oncoming train.

A hand – Jace's hand – miraculously reached his shoulder form some other distant universe and tugged at him, hard. Alec struggled for a moment, ignoring his parabati's insistent words and finally shrugged him off.

Not anywhere close to his usual loud self, in the dim light Magnus still looked amazing in a much more subtle, organic way. Gone was the eyeliner, the glitter, the studs and the leather, but instead he wore a tightfitting black shirt and slacks, his jet back hair hanging loosely to his neck, swaying softly as he spoke to his companion.

The other boy was pale, his hair dark – almost as dark as Alec's though his eyes were brown, not blue. On his hand, Alec noticed the flash of a bronze wolf head ring. Despite being a werewolf he was kind of handsome though, and he dressed well.

Fresh, unadulterated jealousy blossomed in Alec's heart where it grew, becoming fat and green and venomous like a snake. _So maybe that made up for the lack of blue eyes_, Alec thought bitterly, wishing at the same time that Jace had been more successful in coercing him into the shirt that he had been adamant Alec wear tonight.

But maybe it was just as well, he thought, remembering Magnus' words. He knew he should go. He knew he really should walk away before Magnus saw him.

Instead he stood there, the expression on his face like a train just hit him as the raw animal dug its way to the surface for the first time in two weeks.

But suddenly none of that mattered anymore. None of that mattered because just like that Magnus had looked across and their eyes had caught and so did his breath and his heart and his stomach. Cause after three hellish weeks of not seeing Magnus, the warlock was standing right there and Alec felt like a drowning man that had finally broken the surface, reaching air, unable to pull away.

His mouth felt dry. His heart pounded, blood rushing loudly through his ears as he saw the warlock excuse himself from his date and slowly make is way towards him.

"I didn't realize you were dating a werewolf."

The words were out before his mental filter had a chance to react. He hated the raw vulnerability and bitterness in his own voice.

An unidentified expression flashed through Magnus' eyes as he raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Alexander, stop."

"Stop _what_?" Alec could feel the tears coming. He knew better than to make a scene but all he wanted to do was to reach out and close the abyss between them, and kiss him, and apologize and beg for forgiveness.

"We are certainly _not_ dating – not that my love life is any of your business" the warlock deadpanned, folding his arms across his chest. "Though so far he hasn't tried to kill me yet so I suppose he does have potential."

Alec felt the words like a poisonous barb of a Raum Demon.

"I would never have done it," he said – all he could say. He knew that there was no way that Magnus would ever trust him again.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry it's short. I was going to finish the chapter with Magnus' POV but between work and moving to a new house and buying furniture the going's been slower than ever. Chapters might come drabble-ish for a while but I will do all I can to keep things consistent.

Anyway, on a side note, don't you just hate awkward run-ins with ex-lovers? I'll get Magnus' part up soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **As promised, my lovelies.

_There is love in your body but you can't get it out  
__It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth  
__Sticks to your tongue and shows on your face  
__That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste_

~ Florence and the Machine

**Hardest of Hearts**

The possibility that Alec Lightwood – _Alexander Gideon Lightwood_ – would be present at a _werewolf_ nightclub had never crossed Magnus' mind. Not even for a second. So when Magnus looked across the room to meet familiar blue eyes he had almost thought it a trick of the lights.

But no. Impossibly enough Alec was right there. Really there. And despite the copious amounts of alcohol he could feel his insides turn to liquid under the icy blue gaze.

Beside him the werewolf boy was still talking though Magnus was no longer paying attention, his mind entirely focused on a blue-eyed individual. The words that he had spoken at the station about not wanting to see the Shadowhunter again hung in his mind like the blade of a guillotine. A warning he chose to ignore.

"Sorry. Excuse me for a moment," he muttered distractedly to his companion as he moved forward and stepped between a dancing werewolf couple. The girl looked annoyed at the intrusion but the moment Magnus passed they managed to quickly continue their half-hearted swaying.

He was tall enough that the crowd parted easily for him; or maybe regular Downworlders just knew that it was best not to get in the way when you were High Warlock of Brooklyn. Either way, Magnus didn't care because all he was focused on was getting to across to the young man who was watching him from a distance.

He could feel his heart beat louder with each step he took, his mind suddenly realizing that once he got there he didn't have anything to say. And suddenly there he was, face to face with white skin and blue eyes that he could spend another eight hundred years staring into.

He wanted to say "you look well" but that would have been a lie.

Alec didn't look well. He had lost weight. His already shapeless clothes appeared impossibly baggier still – his old, black sweater that had seen better days clung to his frame, engulfing him.

And then they talked. Sort of. He had been happy to see the Shadowhunter one minute and then pissed off the next with Alec's snarky comment. All he had wanted was to kiss him and then drag him off to some dark forbidden corner somewhere but instead they were having another argument. Words rolled off his tongue before his brain could register, because really, what was so wrong with talking to a werewolf?

And just like that it wasn't even about the werewolf anymore. Because it was never ever about talking to werewolves – or was it? Magnus just knew that it hurt. Fighting hurt and he didn't want to fight anymore. And neither did Alec apparently.

Magnus watched as the boy's chest collapsed; Alec looking more sad and lost and broken than he ever had a right to. And all he wanted to do was to hold him and kiss him till everything was better. Because after all that had happened, a really stupid part of Magnus still wanted the young Shadowhunter in his life.

But even though he thought so, he didn't say so. Another thing left unsaid.

The smarter part of himself told him that he really needed to stop wanting to protect the Shadowhunter. He needed to stop thinking of Alec as innocent and weak. Because Alec was neither innocent nor weak.

Because Alec was capable of many things – including killing him apparently.

The unspoken words burned in lost feline eyes.

_I love you. I miss you. I don't know how to trust you. _

_Neither do I know how to stop loving you._

Afraid of giving himself away Magnus lowered his gaze.

"Please tell your mother to stop sending me messages. I'm no longer taking work from the Nephiliam."

His tone was sharper than he intended and he wasn't quite sure why he was making this request to Alec. He knew Maryce Lightwood wouldn't take orders from her own children.

Maybe it was to drive home some other message.

"And I'll be out of town for a while."

Because these days there was something suffocating about New York and Brooklyn. Too many people. Too many calls. Too many memories lingering in his apartment.

Blue eyes widened. Alec's voice rose in ill-concealed confusion. "Where will you go? For how long?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "A month? A year? Maybe a decade."

Because what was time to him? What did it really matter? He thought he might even go meet Tessa in Prague for a while. Or he could always move back to Asia. They said Shanghai was the new New York.

Right in front of him the Shadowhunter was in pain, the shattered thing that reflected in his dazzling blue eyes matched the very thing Magnus had been carrying around in his chest since his conversation with Camille. Doubt. Pain. Fear. The tragic beauty of the boy before him caught him off guard.

"I see," the Shadowhunter said simply, and just like that, the Alec had come to know had withdrawn and he was gone.

Because really, what else was there to say? Magnus knew he had pushed him into a corner, but there didn't seem to be a way out of doing that.

He felt a flash of self-hatred as blue eyes stared back at him, cold, distant and foreign. Surprised, he searched for something familiar but there was nothing. Cold ice in all directions.

Alec was changing, he realized – growing up before his eyes – and the thought pained him.

Pained him because he was beginning to see that all things eventually grew up and left him behind.

Pained him because Jace was supposed to be the jaded and messed up one, not Alec.

* * *

**A/N:** Apologies for posting this twice but I had to add more. What was done previously just didn't cut it.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's been a long time.**

_The God of Wine comes crashing through _  
_The headlights of a car that took you farther _  
_Than you thought you'd ever want to go _  
_We can't get back again _  
_We can't get back again_

_~ Third Eye Blind_

******God of Wine**

The library door stood a few inches open, the glow from the chandeliers above the massive oak table cast a strip of light onto the unlit hallway. From where she stood against the wall, Clary's view was extremely limited though she could still hear the voices of the adults, courtesy of the rune that enhanced her hearing on her inner arm. The Silent brothers had left a few hours ago, though despite the hour, Jocelyn and Luke remained behind with Maryce and Robert, the four of them pouring over old Alicante property records in search of anything Valentine could have owned. News of the angel's wings had been reported back to the Clave and the threat of losing the Institute hung above the Lightwood's heads.

"If what Clary says is true, Valentine could have created any number of hideouts," she heard Maryce Lightwood say. "Even the warlock wasn't able to locate them."

"There must be a way. A more powerful warlock." Robert Lightwood's disembodied voice resonated from within, his tone decided, indicating that he had no wish to further bring up his son's scandalous ex-boyfriend. "The High Warlock of Brooklyn isn't the only damn warlock in New York," he grunted and Clary could practically see his eyes rolling, feeling if possible more sympathy for Alec.

"Magnus is the best one in the tri-state area…"

The third voice was her mother's, and Clary heard the weariness in her voice. She knew how much her mother trusted Magnus and had always relied on him since she was a little girl. The realization had surprised everyone, how much they had come to rely on the warlock only to find out that he no longer wished to be associated with any of them. Isabelle had been the last person to have seen him and would be the last if Magnus stayed true to his word.

"Then we'll search every state till we find another one. San Francisco may have other contacts," Robert continued brusquely though Clary could hear the stress in his voice. Without a means to find Sebastian the Lightwoods were probably going to lose the Institute for sure. Of course the Clave was also doing their own search but even that had led to nothing. Between Jace's heavenly fire and the hunt for Sebastian it seemed like the additional toll of Downworlder deaths were beyond the capabilities of the New York Shadowhunters.

Finally abandoning her position by the library door, Clary walked back to one of the lounge rooms where she had previously left Jace and Isabelle to bicker over the whereabouts of Sebastian. Both of them looked up as she entered the room and sat down on the couch closest to the fire and furthest from Jace. He still couldn't risk touching any of them and while he was out of the infirmary, he was pretty much stuck behind Institute walls, the result of which only served to make him grouchy when there was so much to be done.

Gold eyes watch her expectantly, darkening as he eyed the distance between them with reluctant acceptance. "So? Have we lost the Institute yet?"

"No. Of course not," she said shooting him a reproachful look. He looked positively irresistible when he was in one of his moods, all golden panes and angles and sharing his frustrations she couldn't really be annoyed. "They're looking for another Warlock."

"And a fat load of good that's going to do," Isabelle mumbled bitterly from between the pages of her fashion magazine. While Alec's depression and change in behaviour had been bad for everyone, Isabelle had been particularly affected. Witnessing her brother's agony that she could do nothing to ease only left her in the worst possible moods. The fact that Alec kept sneaking out and staying away for entire days and nights only to come back and crash for twenty-four hours with clear with signs that he had been getting into demon fights by himself riled her even more and filled everyone with constant worry. Clary knew that Robert and Maryce had tried to keep Alec in check from any form of self-sabotage, but since he was past eighteen and technically an adult there was little hope of that either.

"They also think that finding any other possible abandoned properties is going to help. Sebastian must be somewhere. He can't disappear from the face of this earth – not with all his demonic Nephiliam…"

"We can't really know that for sure," Jace reasoned thoughtfully, and she sighed as she had to agree that he was right. "I just don't understand how he managed to summon an angel," he continued. "Simon would have died if it hadn't been for the Mark of Cain."

The truth was that none of them had any answers and the fact that they were forbidden to leave the institute until some plan could be devised grated on all of them and as the nights grew late the restless energy was almost too much to bear. When they weren't thinking about Sebastian it was worrying over Alec and seeing how he was regularly the only one missing that was easy to do. This night was no exception and finally when the grandfather clock chimed three in the morning, Isabelle huffed and pushed herself off the couch.

"Well I'm going to bed," she announced. "If my jerk of a brother wants to stay out by himself I'm not waiting up." And Clary watched as Isabelle stalked gracefully towards the direction of the bedrooms and stopped in her tracks as a rather loud crash was heard and Church came flying out of the dark like a bat out of hell before disappearing under the couch Jace was sitting on. They heard someone whisper a curse as another thud could be heard and everyone relaxed immediately as they recognized the owner of the voice.

Sure enough Alec Lightwood, who thankfully managed to clear the threshold without knocking into anything else, stumbled towards them and collapsed into the couch furthest from the fire with a groan. Immediately Jace was on his feet and at his _parabatai_'s side, followed by Isabelle who was glaring daggers at her brother who was pretending not to notice.

"Where the hell did you go?" Isabelle demanded, and Clary watched as Alec winced slightly before letting his eyes flutter closed before answering the question.

"Out. Downtown actually." He replied. There must have been something funny about it because the next moment Clary heard him giggle darkly.

_Wow, three whole words_, she thought, wondering what on earth could have cause this improvement in mood (lately he could have given the Silent Brothers a run for their money) at least until she was close enough for her to smell the alcohol that clung to him and way his eyes shone, glassy and glazed when he opening them again.

"Jesus Christ, you're drunk." Isabelle's voice dripped with disapproval and Clary realized that she couldn't ever remember seeing Alec drunk. He was usually always the sensible one. So careful, so in control.

"The man could turn water into wine," he slurred drunkenly. "Maybe someone should look into that. Jesus could have been a Downworlder."

Next to Clary Jace stifled a chuckle and Isabelle rolled her eyes though didn't say anything. It took a moment for Clary to notice just how awful Alec looked and from the sound of Isabelle's intake she wasn't the only one.

"Is that _ash_ on your face?" Isabelle leaned closer to examine him, pulling at his arm which Clary only had begun to notice was pressed to his side underneath his jacket. Alec winced and groaned in protest as he tried to shield himself from his sister.

"Get off me! Jace, get her out of here!" His words are a slurred snarl but Clary could tell that he meant them and so apparently did Izzy because she let go of him as if he had slapped her, watching him with dark, hurt filled eyes before storming off to her bedroom.

Clary heard Jace mutter a curse as they all heard a door slam from the direction that Isabelle had disappeared and knew that there would be hell to pay in the morning. But as Alec slowly shrugged off his jacket, she realized that now wasn't the time to care about Izzy's feelings because the older boy had lifted the hem of his shirt and Clary heard the intake of her own breath as she looked down to see the nasty, puncture-like wounds that marred the pale panes of Alec's smooth stomach.

Almost immediately Jace was already handing her his steele, his face a grim mask as she took it from him before leaning over her boyfriend's _parabatai_. She could practically see how this was killing him. Not being able to heal Alec himself because touching him might be his death…

And as she worked on Alec's wounds, she remembered how she once wondered how it was possible to die of grief. _Nephiliam don't love like normal people – _her brother's words echo as she drew another iraze.

This was how.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**_: _**Thank you for the wonderful reviews! You guys have certainly been an encouragement because this chapter was so hard to write for some reason and you won't believe how many times I've wanted to stab it. Anyway, please review and make me feel better. The reason why I'm highlighting other relationships apart from Malec or... comparing them really, is just because love means different things to different people.** _  
_

* * *

_I keep holding onto you  
But I can't bring you back to life  
Sing the anthem of the angels  
Then say the last goodbye_

_~ Anthem of the Angels_

Holding On To You

By the time the grandfather clock struck four, the lounge room was deserted except for the presence of one disgruntled blue Persian. Clary had gone to bed after making sure she had fixed Alec up as much possible, and with much verbal coercion from Jace, he had also been made to take a shower which had thankfully also helped in sobering him up a little. When he had finally emerged, clean from the bathroom, Jace had already seated himself by the window of the bedroom, his back leaning against the glass. Around them Alec felt the silence fall like a ton of bricks against his chest, heavy and bruising. Pointedly avoiding eye contact, he ran a towel through wet, inky hair, feeling annoyed as Jace unleashed his golden gaze upon him.

More than anything Alec wanted to be alone – preferably asleep – instead of being scrutinized like he was in the final stages of demon pox. Letting out a slight groan, he let himself fall back against the bed, his limbs feeling like lead against the soft grey blanket as he fixed his gaze on the light fixture just above his head. Staring despondently towards the ceiling, he let his mind attempted to ignore his _parabatai's_ unwanted presence, his thoughts wandering back to the Downworlder dive bar where he had gotten blissfully drunk earlier in the evening. The place had been a shithole but Alec hadn't cared. As long as the ifrit waitress had kept the drinks coming, the world could have gone to hell in a hand basket and he, Alec Lightwood, would have been perfectly okay with that.

"What happened tonight?" Jace's voice, though quiet in the darkness, held an edge that Alec couldn't quite identify. This really wasn't a conversation he felt like having right now, but the supreme effort it would take to kick Jace out of his bedroom deterred him from doing so.

"Ahiab Demon," he said finally with a sigh, his eyes finding Jace's in the dimly lit room. He hadn't really spoken to him since coming back home from the werewolf nightclub a few days ago – not that he had seen him much since. And maybe that was a good thing because his _parabatai_ didn't look at all pleased as he moved from the window to stand next to the bed, his arms folded; golden eyes now narrowed accusingly. The expression made him look alarmingly like Isabelle though his next words were defiantly more Magnus than anyone else.

"Intoxication isn't a state to fight demons in. Not alone."

_Alone?_

Wasn't he alone? Alec frowned slightly as he pondered this.

He had never felt more alone in his life, and yet these days it was hard to be in anyone's company for long without feeling like he was about to lose his mind. And maybe he was losing his mind because the pure audacity of the comment threw him on edge, lighting flames behind his eyes because they were so _not_ having this conversation (except that somehow they were).

"You know, I always used to wonder why you did that. Risk yourself so much, I mean. Izzy and I used to worry about you all the time."

It was casually said, but something in his tone held a warning. Because the hypocrisy of it all was making his head spin; because how many times had _he_ been the one left behind while Jace slipped out into the night with nothing but self-loathing and a death wish? Because despite what Jace and Isabelle might think, he wasn't suicidal.

He didn't want to die. Not really.

That didn't mean he was particularly interested in living either.

Still, it was insulting because they should know that he wouldn't do that to them. Not to Isabelle or his parents.

Not after Max.

However instead of voicing this, Alec fumbled with his sheets, the silence returning, stretching between them once more like an elastic band as he watched Jace with a face wiped clean of all emotion, waiting for the smartass comment that doesn't come. Finally he heard the other boy sigh before moving to sit on the furthest corner of his bed.

"I can go talk to him you know," he offered, and while Alec was sure that Jace meant well the idea of it turned his stomach.

"Won't help. Izzy already told me she tried that… Besides, he said he was leaving."

It was surprising to him that he could speak of Magnus leaving so calmly now, like it didn't mess him up inside, like it didn't feel like someone was sucking his insides out with a vacuum cleaner.

He watched as Jace raised an eyebrow. "For starters, I'm much more convincing than Isabelle. Besides, if _she's_ the one hounding him it's little wonder that he's leaving," he quipped and for an instant the smallest hint of a smile flickered across Alec's lips and was gone.

"Hell hath no fury like a protective Isabelle", he agreed though the rush of love he felt for his sister was instantly buried beneath the raw pain that he was so tired of feeling.

It was only the fighting that kept him alive now. Only the physical pain and the adrenalin that kept him from remembering the ragged hole that had been gouged out of his chest and the guilt that flayed his dreams. The fact that he had even considered Camille's offer for a second makes him sick despite the fact that he knew that he wouldn't have been able to do it. Insecurities had made him desperate, and Magnus was right – the act was unforgivable and now the self-loathing he felt consumed him, leaving nothing behind but shards of hurt and rage that were mostly directed inwards.

In all honesty, to Alec it was a miracle that his own family hadn't shunned him because shortening someone's life so that they could grow old with you was pretty much as low as anyone could go. In his darker moods it was difficult to look Jace and Isabelle in the face because there were still so many moments in the day when he is reminded of why he deserves to die alone; reminded as to why cold pillows and sheets were the only things his fingers find in the painful darkness after everyone else had gone to bed.

"I just – I just can't believe I lost him…" he murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped them once again, his voice was strained, rough with unshed tears that he's determined to hold back by sheer force of will. He didn't know why he was saying this to Jace or how it was that he thought the other boy would understand. It felt as though his love for Magnus clung to him, refusing to let go, like a phantom limb that hurt and hurt and hurt despite the fact that it had been cleanly amputated.

"You didn't. He's not dead. Only the dead are lost to us," And maybe he was self-projecting but the expression Jace held was a mix of deep sadness and what he could only interpret as pity. Still, the last thing he needed was for Jace to tell him that everything was going to be okay because things were _not_ going to be okay.

Just because _he_ wasn't dead didn't mean that this could be fixed.

_It doesn't change anything._

"You really have no fucking idea!" And just like that he started yelling, the loudness of it shocking the both of them.

"Alec-"

"Just imagine if it had been you and Clary… and suddenly she's out with a werewolf scumbag who's like you, only better."

"There is a flaw in that hypothetical." Jace smirked grimly. "There _is_ no one better, and I never would consider shortening her life.""

And while he might have marvelled at his _parabatai_'s level of self-assurance if he wasn't too busy rolling his eyes, Alec's jaw tightens as the last words hit him like a blow to the chest, because really, that was the truth right there. No one else would have been selfish enough to consider it. But he had.

Still, Jace had no idea of how things had really been like between himself and Magnus. Not really, because how would he? Things were different between him and Clary and Jace didn't have to worry about being left behind or about the life and long line of lovers that would have come before him. He didn't have a way of understanding the distance that had kept growing between them and the desperation that he had felt in realizing how little he had really known his lover.

"Not even if she lived forever? An immortal Clary who will live _forever_ and will eventually move on and love _other people_ when you get old."

"No. I would not even consider it then."

"Not even for a _second_?"

"Not even for a second."

And Jace sounds so sure that Alec paused to absorb his words.

"So what would happen if she tried to shorten _your_ life?" he asked bitterly, feeling the creature in his chest claw and hack away at the flayed chunks of meat that had once been a heart; and Jace's answer stays with him for the rest of the evening because when he finally answered his dark gold eyes were full of conviction.

"Then I would let her."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I know this is a Malec. Really. It is at its core. But it is also an exploration on what it means to love. They say that love is patient and kind and whatnot… but it is also selfish, and painful and protective and sacrificing. Because even in our selflessness we work constantly towards getting what we want.

* * *

_Cause love like a blow to the head has left me stunned_  
_And I'm reeling, yeah, I'm reeling_  
_And if you go, furious angels will bring you back to me_

~Rob Dougan

**Furious Angels**

Slumped against a small brick ledge and a rusted water tank, Jordan didn't think the young boy looked older than ten and in the stormy overcast light of dusk he could have looked asleep if it wasn't for the gaping wound that had been torn savagely out of his throat or the blood that had dried black against his grey Avengers t-shirt.

As far as he could tell the boy's scent, though polluted by death, smelt human and there were no other physical signs to indicate that he had been otherwise.

Clenching his fists Jordan closed his eyes, swearing softly before muttering a few reverent words and dialing Praetor Scott, not at all surprised when the weary sounding leader answered on the first ring.

"I found another. A human child," he muttered quietly as guilt he had been trying to keep out found his heart like a knife.

Since the news of Nick's death he couldn't stop feeling like he was personally responsible for Maureen's victims. It didn't help that Praetor Scott had thought so too or the fact that every time he went back to headquarters he saw his failure in the rising numbers of mug shots that were growing; taking over the walls of the Praetor leader's office like some kind of unholy blight.

Like any outreach program of its kind, the Praetor Lupus did not have a history of a hundred per cent success. There were failures all the time. Not all subjects were able to acclimatize into their supernatural life. Some fell back into the cracks, some stayed rogue – most were killed or simply committed suicide. And yet Jordan couldn't quite believe that he had so far proven to be such a monumental disappointment – whatever Maia had to say about it, which lately had been a lot because despite everything that had happened, the orders were still to try and assimilate the young vampire instead of kill her on sight.

"I still don't see why you can't just let the Clave deal with this." Maia's steady chocolate gaze held his from her seat on the kitchen counter top that morning as they waited on the sizzling bacon. Dressed in one if his comfy old shirts, he watched as she uncharacteristically nibbled the end of one of her braids.

"Because everyone knows what the Clave will do with her," he said, expertly flipping the contents of the pan. "Then we might as well let the vampires have her."

His mind was still partially on Nick's funeral that had been held a few days before. It hadn't been a big service, but most of the New York Praetors that Jordan was familiar with had stopped by to pay respects. Already there had been rippling murmurs among the New York werewolves about highly organized vampire-led attacks, much to the chagrin of the Praetor Lupus. So far they seemed to be the only group concerned with trying to stop a full scale war between the two species and Jordan couldn't help but think that there had already been way too much death.

From the counter top Maia rolled her eyes. "The vampires should have her. This is _their_ mess," she pointed out.

"But they'd kill her."

"Exactly."

Turning off the gas, he frowned as he turned to her, unsure of how to voice his thoughts. Maureen was just a little girl, barely fourteen, he reminded himself, his thoughts wandering back to that night in the alley; Simon standing over her lifeless body as he drank and drank and drank…

"She didn't choose this path."

"And neither did I!" Maia huffed. "But most of us don't just go around like lunatics, biting and killing people."

Tensing at her words he couldn't help but look away as guilt and shame burned holes into him. He knew she wasn't talking about him or what he had done to her in the past but it was hard not to see it that way.

She seemed to realize her mistake and her features softened as she hopped down from her counter to snake her arms around his torso in a comforting hug. Her body was warm and soft and he could feel her heartbeat against his back.

"You're different," she murmured softly into his skin. "You didn't kill anyone. You're nothing like her."

However instead of making him feel better he found no comfort in her words.

They say when you are in the height of your first transformation into the wolf that you're not yourself – that you have no memory of it. For Jordan that had been the furthest from the truth. He remembered everything about those wretched weeks – how he had hit her; how they had jealousy and rage._ You have no idea what I would have done if the Praetor's hadn't been watching,_ he thought as he gazed helplessly back into her safe chocolate eyes._ You have no idea of how I used to be._

"Kyle?"

The silence ended as Praetor Scott's voice over the phone brought him firmly back to the present.

"Tell us where you are; we'll send someone. Meanwhile just keep looking."

Eying the body, Jordan quickly told the Praetor leader the cross streets and listened to the tell-tale sounds of him marking the location on the map of Manhattan that was stuck up on one of the walls in his office. In his head for some reason he imagined 'someone' to be a warlock clean-up crew that would miraculously cover up the morbid scene with colourful jets of magic and a whirl of sparkling glitter…

He snorted.

More likely it would be a few older werewolves who happened to work for the police, he thought as he pushed through the rotting door that lead to the stairwell and back downstairs. His hazel eyes lit like an animal's in the dark and he could taste the electricity in the air as the thunder rumbled above.

_If it only were that easy_, he thought darkly, pulling the hood of his jacket up as he felt the first drop of rain.

By the time Jordan crossed into Alphabet City he was completely drenched and cold; the freezing wind tore through his wet jacket like paper. He was also very aware that someone was following him.

The darkness and the rain had made it hard to tell, but some kind of natural instinct had left him with the uncanny feeling of being watched that caused his hair to rise.

Around him the road ahead was unnaturally deserted and Jordan felt his heartbeat quicken when he thought he saw a flash of movement; a dark shadow sliding and merging into the surrounding darkness.

Adrenalin shot through him as he froze. His eyes shifted as he watched the shadows, trying to identify any kind of movement behind him as well as in front.

Everything remained still.

Straining his ears, he picked up nothing. Nothing except the dripping rain and the rapid beat of his own heart.

_This is stupid,_ he chided himself. _You're a werewolf. Freaking hold it together Kyle!_

He was being paranoid. There was no one else around. He was alone. And he was just about to write it off as paranoia when he saw another flash of a shadow. Against the light it looked humanoid though it was too silent and a little too fast to be human.

Filthy little bloodsucker. Jordan growled softly.

If a vamp thought that it could hunt him like an animal it sure had another thing coming, he thought as he crossed the narrow street in time to see the figure leap down one of the buildings' external fire escape.

Quickening his pace, he broke into a run, his sneakers hitting the wet pavements as he sprinted, weaving through the narrow streets. Quickly he stole into one of the darkened alleyways, between a small Thai restaurant and Wong's Dry Cleaning. Metal grills barred the shop entrances after hours. Cold steel.

Tensing, he paused, hoping the rain would diffuse his scent as he tried to calm his breathing, waiting for another glimpse of his pursuer. Beneath the cuffs of his sleeves strong fingers had already turned into razor sharp claws and luminous wolf eyes scanned through the rain at the street from the alley. All around him echoed the roar of the rain, a low hum of a car and (if he strained hard enough) the ever so silent scape of quietened footfalls against tarmac that were quickly getting closer.

A fresh wave of adrenaline coursed through him, his breathing changing as he braced himself for the fight. It was inevitable. That much he knew. He might as well gain the element of surprise, stand his ground and do his best to rip the bloodsucker limb from limb. Praetor Scott would not be pleased.

Lowering himself into a crouch, Jordan felt his muscles tighten, his whole body tense as a wire about to snap as the footfalls grew closer, adrenalin leaving a bitter taste in his mouth to match his racing heart as he waited in the downpour.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Closer and closer.

A shade of black flashed across his position and he pounced, attempting to catch his opponent in a grapple. Instantly the leech threw him off, sending him flying into cold, wet bricks. Twisting he turned, his spine curling as the transformation took him further into wolf form, making him stronger. Bending his knees, Jordan sprang once more, a large claw managing to slice through the thick, wet leather before he grabbed a hold, throwing his opponent backwards. His back hit the steel grills of a shop front with a metallic crash and steel grills rattled as Jordan lunched forward, one clawed hand curling tightly onto the leech's throat.

Under the small awning and the stark florescent light on the streetlamp, Jordan felt a flicker of recognition as his eyes met those of the boy before him beneath his thick fringe of hair. He gasped, eyes widening.

"You're Isabelle's brother." His brain was reeling – his adrenalin rush quickly turning to anger because sure enough he was. Deathly pale and angular, in the light Jordan could see the dark circles that were visible under his eyes, almost passing him off for a hungry vampire.

"Why the hell were you following me? I thought you were a fucking _leech_! Didn't anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on a werewolf?"

Annoyingly enough, other than being slammed into the shop front, the Shadowhunter looked completely and infuriatingly unfazed. He twisted himself out of Jordan's loosening grip before lowering his face with a smirk

"No. Actually that is _exactly_ what they taught us."

The werewolf rolled his eyes. Were all Shadowhunters this irritating? "I thought the Jace was the one with the smart mouth." The guy clearly had a death wish.

The Shadowhunter shrugged indifferently. "He is, usually." And Jordan had to supress a growl because after all, this guy was one of Simon and Maia's friends.

"Whatever," he snapped, losing patience." I want to know why the hell you were following me."

"You're looking for a vampire." The words were a statement, making Jordan wonder just for how long he had been followed. "And rogue vampires are of concern to the Clave."

There was something about the way he said that – the hungry glint in his eyes – that somehow didn't quite sit well with Jordan. Not only did the oldest Lightwood seem to have some kind of reckless death wish, but he was also clearly on a war path of some kind, seemingly against vampires. If he ever found Maureen it wouldn't be an arrest as much as an execution.

His expression clearly conveyed his displeasure at the Shadowhunter's involvement but before he could even say anything, a piercing scream cut through the rain.

* * *

**A/N:** Apologies for the cliffie. It just made sense to stop there before I switched out of Jordan's pov. Anyway, I told you stuff is going to happen, so I will live up to that promise. Also who likes badass Alec? Certainly better than mopey Alec, no? Still, not that I wouldn't take Alec any way that he comes. Poor baby.

Anyway, leave me a review for motivation cause I have a feeling the next few chapters aren't going to be easy.


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